


One Night in Kephallonia

by bainsidhe



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Ancient Greek feminists hell yes, Canon Compliant, F/F, Femslash, Foreshadowing, Prequel, Smut, Some feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-30
Updated: 2018-12-02
Packaged: 2019-09-02 14:05:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16788418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bainsidhe/pseuds/bainsidhe
Summary: Kassandra is a jaded misthios on the backwater island of Kephallonia, doing whatever dirty jobs she can find for drachmae. She's a simple woman - she likes to fight, drink, and fuck, and she doesn't spare much of a thought for any future beyond where her next payday is coming from. But everything changes when she meets a mysterious woman whose father is the target of one of Markos's schemes. A direct prequel to the story of Assassin's Creed: Odyssey. Canon-compliant - I just decided Kassandra needed more saucy lady-lovin' in her life.





	1. Chapter 1

Kassandra panted heavily, catching her breath in the clearing. She was reasonably sure she'd lost her pursuers: bumbling, clod-headed excuses for guards, every last one of them, no doubt still stumbling and cursing around the perimeter of the guest house, searching in vain for the invader who'd long since vanished. Still, the fact that she'd even had to flee at all irked her something fierce; that, and the fact that she'd been caught so off-guard that she had been forced to scamper out of Lydia's window as naked as the day she was born. She looked down at herself, her bare breasts pale in the wan light of the waxing moon, her myriad of scars visible against the prickled gooseflesh of her exposed skin.

" _Maláka_ ," she swore.

* * *

The day had begun auspiciously enough. Gelos the fishmonger, who had foolishly taken out a loan from Markos (under terms which Kassandra had no doubt were extraordinarily unfavorable), had finally paid her back in full when she'd paid her weekly visit to his merchant stall in Sami. She was grateful that she hadn't had to settle the issue with violence; it was one thing to fight and kill thugs, bandits, and soldiers, but something else entirely to rough up merchants whose only wrongdoing was getting on the wrong side of a debt. Still, she was a _misthios_ , and she didn't get paid to have scruples. But it was nevertheless a relief that she hadn't had to follow through on her threat to break the man's arms - because if there _was_ one principle she kept, it was honesty. A _misthios_ who made idle threats, or promises that remained unfulfilled, was as trustworthy – and as sought-after – as a broken, rusty blade. Fortunately, Gelos had spared her the need to keep her word.

She'd just arrived at Markos' new estate, a fat bag of drachmae jingling on her belt, when she spied the procession of strange horses tied up at the hitching posts at the foot of the hill. A bevy of unfamiliar people – servants by the look of them – milled neared the horses, adjusting saddlebags and brushing the steeds clean from their ride. With a frown, she made her way up through the vineyard, past tittering fieldworkers abuzz with gossip.

"Ah! Kassandra! My friend!" Markos burst through the scrum, his ebullient voice booming over the din as he bustled up to her. "You're here just in time! I was just telling Eremos here about you! About my trusty, number-one _misthios_! My partner in crime! My blade in the dark!" At this last he pantomimed stabbing an imaginary foe through the gut with a dagger, which earned him an exasperated sigh from Kassandra.

"Who is Eremos? What are all these people doing here? And before I forget, here." She shoved the bag of drachmae into Markos' hands. "Gelos paid up. I already took my cut."

Markos blinked in confusion for a moment, until a grin of recognition spread across his face. "Ah, yes, Gelos! Well! It is always good to have drachmae in our pockets, yes, my friend? Ah…. about your cut..."

"No," Kassandra cut him off before he could continue. "Absolutely not, Markos. Whatever scheme you've gotten yourself embroiled in, finance it yourself."

"Well, you see, my friend, I would, but…" he trailed off, his eyes casting nervously towards the house on the hill. "Ah, I am getting ahead of myself! Come – I will introduce you to Eremos and you can see for yourself! Come! Come!"

With another weary sigh, Kassandra watched as Markos scrambled back up the hill towards his estate. Markos never changed. Even though every scheme, con, or swindle he concocted invariably blew up in his face, he never, ever learned his lesson. He was constantly in debt, which he financed only by extracting debts from others; debts he always sent Kassandra to collect. Was this to be her life – shaking down small-bit debtors for their drachmae, and protecting her boss from the thugs his creditors sent to shake _him_ down for _his_ drachmae, trapped on the shithole island of Kephallonia until she withered away or finally met the unlucky end of a blade?

"Kassandra!" Markos' voice pulled her out of her reverie. She shook her head, a pang of guilt creeping through her gut as she regarded her bitter thoughts. Whatever else he was, Markos was still the closest thing to family she had, after –

Kassandra squeezed her eyes closed, slamming the door on those thoughts before they could fully manifest in her mind. It didn't matter, anyway. Whatever she had been, or would have been, once, was dead and gone, snuffed out like a candle that night on the mountain. Markos had saved her, and now she worked for him – but it wasn't so bad, not really. She was a simple woman. She liked to fight, and drink, and fuck, and there was plenty of opportunity for all three to be found even on Kephallonia if one knew where to look.

"Coming, Markos, keep your smallclothes on!"

She entered the estate to find Markos obsequiously fawning over a stern-faced, rotund older man clad in expensive-looking clothing, sitting at the table while Markos poured wine from an amphora into a waiting cup. This must be Eremos – but Kassandra found her eyes drawn instead to his companion.

A young woman, clothed in similarly well-tailored fashion, sat beside the old man, her honey-colored tresses braided into an intricate pattern atop her head. She was a rare beauty, the kind you did not see in Kephallonia often, with green-blue eyes that glittered like the Aegean and a full, plump mouth that set Kassandra's thoughts along a decidedly unchaste path. Kassandra did not realize she'd been staring until the woman's gaze met her own, and she was rewarded with a shy smile. Kassandra abruptly averted her gaze, and fortunately for her, Markos had finally taken note of her arrival, a huge grin spreading across his face.

"Ah, Kassandra! You are here! See, Eremos – this is the _misthios_ I told you about! A better hand with a blade you will never find! Kassandra, this is Eremos, my new partner! Oh! I can already tell that we will all get along splendidly, isn't that right, Kassandra?"

Kassandra rallied with a faint chuckle, silently thanking Markos from saving her from the embarrassment of being caught gawping at the beautiful stranger like a bitch in heat. Whatever lingering embarrassment she felt dissipated like steam upon the next words from the old man.

"A woman?" he scoffed, voice dripping with contempt. "Your fabled _misthios_ is a woman, Markos? Now I know why you were so cagey about his – _her_ – name. I thought you said you ran a professional operation here?"

Kassandra's blood ran hot as she shot Eremos a murderous glare. "You insult me? You insult my skills? I killed my first man when I was thirteen years old. Killing is what I do, and I do it well. If you think otherwise because I do not have a cock between my legs, then you are welcome to hire any challenger you wish to best me. I will kill him, and then I will have my satisfaction from you!"

"You dare speak to me so imprudently? Do you know who I am?" Eremos' eyes blazed in fury, and Kassandra met his glare unflinchingly. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the young woman frozen in shock – but was that a hint of amusement she detected in the other woman's eyes?

"Ah, no, no, let's not get off on the wrong foot!" Markos stammered, tittering a nervous laugh. "You see, Eremos, my Kassandra is a fiery one! And she is right, you will find no better warrior on Kephallonia, man or woman! And as with all warriors, sometimes her temper gets the better of her, isn't that right, Kassandra?" Markos met her gaze with his own frantic expression, his eyes pleading with her to quell her anger and deescalate the situation.

"I'm sure you had a reason for asking me here, Markos," she said, her voice level but taut with anger. She was half tempted to storm out of the estate and let Markos deal with the fallout; but, as much as he might infuriate and exasperate her in turn, she did not want to be the reason his latest fool venture failed. It was likely enough to fail without any intervention on her part, anyway.

"Of course, my friend, of course," he said glibly, eagerly seizing the truce she offered. "You see, Eremos here is a wealthy businessman from Attika who is seeking new opportunities! Which is to say, he wants to invest in my vineyard! Isn't that wonderful news? With his drachmae and my wine-making skills, we will create magic!"

It took all of Kassandra's willpower not to openly gape at Markos in disbelief. His 'wine-making skills?' Had he bothered to tell Eremos that he'd only just bought the vineyard and had never made a batch of wine in his life? No – of course he hadn't. This had all the makings of a classic Markos con – find a wealthy mark, swindle said mark out of drachmae through deception, exaggeration, or outright lies, and find a way to weasel out of his debt before his victim removed his head from his shoulders. Frequently, his solution to the last part of the scheme was to have Kassandra intervene, usually bloodily, on his behalf. So that's why he'd wanted her here tonight. She suppressed a weary sigh.

"And you can assure me that this… _misthios_ of yours will keep my investment safe?" Kassandra cast another withering glare at the pompous _maláka_ , who continued to regard her with barely-concealed contempt. "You had better be right, Markos."

"Let us make one thing very clear, shall we?" Kassandra's voice was cold as steel. "I don't work for you unless the drachmae in my pocket comes from your purse. Now, if you wanted to make a… let's say, a security deposit… in the interest of protecting your precious investment, then we can talk."

Before he could splutter in reply, Kassandra was out the door, knowing that she needed to get as far away from the fat-jowled merchant before she got Markos into any further trouble. Gods knew the fool could manage that well enough on his own.

"Stupid," she muttered under her breath as she trudged down the hill from Markos' estate. "What were you thinking this time, Markos?" It was one thing to pull one over on the backwater clods from Kephallonia; it was another thing entirely to piss off a wealthy Attikan merchant. The man could have his own private mercenary army, for all Markos knew!

"Kassandra! Wait!" The sound of Markos' voice made her clench her fists. She turned, seething, to watch him trundle clumsily down the path after her, trying to catch up. "Don't worry – I have told Eremos to enjoy a sample of my wine! He will hardly notice I am gone. But please, Kassandra – "

"A sample of your wine," she replied incredulously. " _Your_ wine, Markos? Or did you buy good wine at the market and tell him it was yours, so he would agree to give you money before he figures out that your wine is shit?"

"My wine is not shit!" he protested. "Well… it won't be! When I make it! It will be nearly identical to the wine I have served Eremos tonight. They're grapes, Kassandra! How different can they be?"

"How different…" She shook her head. "You are a fool, do you know that? The gods have cursed you with stupidity that knows no bounds! Do you not think a wealthy Attikan knows what good wine tastes like? What do you think is going to happen when he buys a shipment of wine from you that tastes like horse piss?"

"Ah, but that will be months from now!" Markos threw out his arms and grinned, as though Kassandra had alighted upon the true genius of his plan. "And in the meantime… I will have repaid all my debts with the money he so generously has invested, and we will be sitting pretty, you and I!"

"Until Eremos demands his investment back," she pointed out. "And comes for your head when you don't have it."

"Ah, but that's why I have you!" He playfully elbowed her with a conspiratorial wink. "We'll figure something out!"

"We! There is no 'we!'" she exploded. "This is all on you – your idiot scheme, your foolish risk! And what if I decide I don't want to rescue you from another problem of your own making, Markos? What then?"

Kassandra's words struck home, as Markos's face crumpled. "You… you wouldn't do that to me, would you?" he said, his voice suddenly small. "I mean… you wouldn't really leave me to get… killed? If it came to that? After I saved you? Raised you as my own?"

She squeezed her eyes shut, her thoughts unwillingly drawn back to the memories she'd tried earlier that evening to suppress. _The mountain… her brother… that fucking priest…her mother's cries… her father… her father…_

"Markos…"

"Please, Kassandra," he begged. "I know I have gotten over my head in the past. But that is the past! This will work, I tell you! I will learn how to make wine! Real wine! And I will be an honest merchant, and you my trusted captain! It will happen this time… I know it will!"

Kassandra didn't believe him, of course. She'd be a fool if she did. This was not the first time he'd promised his schemes would 'work' and things would be 'different,' and it wouldn't be the last. But…

_She was cold, and hungry – so very, very hungry. She clutched the broken spear in her hand like an amulet, as if its mere presence would ward off the dangers that stalked her. But a child – even a strong Spartan child, bred for war – can only walk so far on an empty stomach. She'd stumbled, and the last thing she remembered was the feel of the spear in her hand, its cold steel reminding her of who she was and what she'd lost._

_Until…_

" _Wake up, little one!" Rough hands, shaking her gently. "Come on, child, wake up!"_

_Bleary eyes opened. She beheld a man's face, shrewd but kind eyes framed by a wild beard._

_She punched him._

" _AH! Ah!" He cried out, his hand instinctively cupping his bleeding nose. "Gods damn it!" She felt her stomach clench in terror – she'd struck at him out of a primal instinct, an ingrained response to a perceived threat – but now she realized she was hopelessly outmatched, still weak, still frail, still a child, while she'd just angered a large man who loomed over her –_

_A sound cut through her panic. Laughter. The man looked at her with mirthful eyes as he wiped the blood away from his face._

" _My, but you are a spirited one, aren't you? What's your name, lass? I am Markos. Shall we get off this lonely beach?"_

"You know I won't abandon you, Markos," she said with a weary sigh. "But you're still an idiot."

"Aha! But I'm your idiot!" he said, slinging his arm around her shoulder. "Now come back inside. I've had the servants prepare a grand feast of welcoming for our guest, and what friend would I be if I let you miss a feast, eh?"

"Fine," she said, managing a small smile for his benefit. "But let me stew outside until the food is ready. If I see that fat fool right now, I might be forced to hit him, and ruin your plans before you can bilk him out of his drachmae."

Markos roared with laughter. "Ah, Kassandra, this is why I love you. No one can say that you do not know your own limitations!"

_Unlike you_ , she thought as he bustled back into the estate to wheedle his wealthy merchant.

Kephallonia was a dump; she frequently called it the arsehole of Hellas. And yet, even Kassandra could not deny the beauty of the sunsets here. She perched lightly on the wall on Markos's estate and admired the sky, bathed in swaths of red and purple as the sun sank towards the western horizon. A keening cry above her lightened her heart; Ikaros, her constant companion, out for a hunt but reminding his mistress of his stalwart presence. She sighed, a sense of peace returning to her slowly. She supposed it wasn't all bad. Markos was a fool, but he was kind. She had Ikaros. She had Phoibe – and gods only knew what the little scamp was up to tonight, but Kassandra always enjoyed humoring the little girl. She remembered what it was to be young and poor and without a family. And, of course, there was –

"Hello? Kassandra, was it?"

Kassandra turned, and her blood burned as she saw the beautiful young woman from the estate approaching her with a shy, hesitant smile. She was momentarily struck dumb as the woman approached her, delicate hands nervously pressing against her fine gown. Kassandra immediately felt self-conscious of her sweaty armor and unkempt hair.

_Gods – get a grip on yourself, woman!_ Kassandra shook her head imperceptibly – she'd never been the kind of woman to wilt in the presence of someone she wanted to fuck. She chalked it up to all the brooding she'd been doing today. Well, enough of that.

"It is," she said, turning on what she hoped was her most winning smile. "And you are…?"

The woman returned her smile. "My name is Lydia. Please… forgive my father. He can be… abrasive, at times. At most times, actually."

Oh. Well. That complicated things.

"But I think it's wonderful that you are a _misthios_ , no matter what Father says! He thinks women are good for little besides breeding and looking pretty. Seeing you is proof that he is wrong – that I can want for more in my life than being some old man's broodmare." A wistful expression passed across her face, and Kassandra's guts roiled in rage. It was true that nowhere in Greece afforded women the same status as men, but she had earned her place, and her reputation, through her own sweat and blood. But how different her life might have been if she'd been born elsewhere, if… what had happened… had not happened.

"Your father is wrong," she said tightly. "If he values you so poorly, then he is even more a fool than I thought."

"I wanted to train in athletics, but he forbade me. He forbade me from anything that would not be a 'credit to my husband,'" Lydia said, unable to disguise the disgust in her voice. "I am lucky I was even taught to read – and that was only because I convinced him that I could help my future husband balance his ledger! He is so awful, Kassandra! Seeing you – a strong woman – stand up to him…" Without warning, she reached out and grabbed Kassandra's hands in hers. "You gave me such courage. Thank you."

"I… you're welcome." For the second time that night, Kassandra was struck speechless. This time, not because she was overawed by Lydia's beauty – although the sunset highlighted her golden tresses in the most exquisite way – but because she could think of nothing to say to the young woman's earnest words. Well, she could think of nothing decent to say, at any rate – she had plenty she could say about Lydia's pig of a father. She felt the heat of Lydia's hands against hers, the other woman's fingertips tracing gentle patterns against her own callused palms.

"You're so strong," Lydia cooed, removing her hands from Kassandra's only to admiringly graze her palms against Kassandra's biceps. "Where did you learn how to fight? My father would not even permit me to run races, let alone pick up a spear."

The feel of Lydia's smooth hands was doing torturous things to Kassandra's insides, and she eagerly seized on the topic of battle to divert her raging blood. "I was trained for war as soon as I could stand," she said. "In Sparta, all children know how to defend themselves, although it is only boys who are trained in the _agoge_ ," she said. "My family… I was on my own from a young age, but I never forgot my training. Markos took me in, and paid me to do odd jobs for him. I've been fighting ever since."

"You are Spartan?" Lydia breathed in amazement. "Oh! Father and I are Athenian – does that make us enemies? I hope not! I should not want to be your enemy, Kassandra."

Kassandra chuckled ruefully at Lydia's wide-eyed fear. "I'm… let's just say I'm exiled from Sparta," she said. "At any rate, I don't have a 'side' in this war, so no, we are not enemies." Feeling emboldened by Lydia's hands on her arms, she leaned in, wetting her lips with a quick flick of her tongue. "I could never be your enemy. You are far too lovely."

"I'm glad," Lydia breathed. "You know… when men compliment my beauty, I find myself disgusted. They leer at me like beasts, like I am a piece of raw meat for them to devour. But when you look at me…" She raised her hand from Kassandra's arm to trace a delicate finger along her jaw. "I can tell that you truly see me. All of me, not just a pretty face. I like the way you look at me, Kassandra."

Kassandra's heart raced as Lydia's fingers caressed her jaw. "I can do more than look," she said wolfishly. Lydia's eyes widened, and Kassandra cursed herself a fool, afraid she'd said too much, gone too far too soon.

"That is, if you like," she hastily added.

"Kassandra! Young mistress Lydia! Dinner is served!" Markos's bellow echoed from the estate, and Kassandra swore inwardly. She'd managed to terrify the poor woman by coming on too strong, and now they'd have no more privacy, and she'd have no time to undo her mistake. With a grimace, she unseated herself from the wall and began to make her way back to the manor, when a slight pressure on her wrist stopped her. She turned to find Lydia, hand firmly encircling Kassandra's wrist, and a look of determination – and passion – on her face.

"I would like that," she said firmly. "After dinner, when the men are talking business – come to my room, tonight. The servants put my things in the eastern room of the guest house. Find me there." She leaned in, pressed a quick kiss against Kassandra's cheek, and breezed past the mercenary on her way up to the estate.

Kassandra stood there, dumbfounded, for several moments, before a stupid grin found its way to her face. Well. Today was a good day, after all.

Dinner was a torturous, drawn-out affair, and Kassandra picked at her plate impatiently as Markos rattled on and on to a bored-looking Eremos. The feast was pleasant, but her hunger tonight was decidedly for things other than food. She cast another glance at Lydia, who maintained the perfect posture of a demure young lady; silent, submissive, seen and admired but never heard. It would have burned Kassandra's blood if her mind wasn't already so thoroughly set on other things; and besides, Lydia was clearly using her lack of conversation as an excuse to torment Kassandra. Every now and then Kassandra would feel a slight brush against her foot; every time she snapped her gaze to Lydia, she was met with a doe-eyed look of innocence that almost might have been genuine, but for the slow, saucy wink Lydia deployed before turning her obedient gaze towards her father.

_This little minx is torturing me_ , Kassandra thought, her blood quickening at the thought. _She will soon learn exactly what manner of payback she's earned._ As the feast wore on and on, Kassandra found herself driven increasingly closer to distraction. If not for the men, she would sweep all the dishes to the floor, haul Lydia by her wrist onto the table, rip that too-expensive gown from her body and ravish her right there. Her passions stoked, she raked a heated gaze across her soon-to-be lover, careful to avoid eye contact – she was barely in control of her raging libido as it was. Her eyes traced the creamy skin of Lydia's bare shoulder until it disappeared into the fitted azure fabric, just above the top of her breast.

"Ow," she exclaimed, a sharp pain in her hand bringing her mind jarringly back to the present moment. She looked down at her right hand, with which she had inadvertently been clutching at her knife so tightly that she'd slipped and cut her hand. Not a bad cut, but –

"Ah, Kassandra! Are you all right?" Markos said, gesturing toward her hand.

"Of course," she snapped, annoyed that Markos was still monopolizing the room, and annoyed that she'd lost control so visibly. "My hand slipped. It's nothing." Then, a burst of inspiration came to her. "It's been a long day. Perhaps I should retire."

"Ah, yes, how rude of me! Of course – thank you for joining us for the feast, Kassandra! Perhaps you could be so kind as to escort young mistress Lydia to the guest house? Eremos and I still have much to discuss."

Kassandra no more had a chance to get her hopes up than Eremos quashed them abruptly. "That won't be necessary, Markos," he said curtly. "I have my own guards, and they will take my daughter to her chambers. I wouldn't wish to… trouble… your _misthios_ any more than necessary." He snapped a finger, and a burly, oafish looking man who had been seated discreetly at the end of the dining table stood, giving Eremos a slow nod.

"I see," Kassandra said. Of course Eremos had brought guards as well as servants. But guards presented little obstacle. She'd sneaked past guards before – and she knew Markos's estate like the back of her hand. "Then allow me to bid you good night." She made eye contact with Lydia, and this time, it was she who winked before departing into the evening.


	2. Chapter 2

Kassandra waited a good half hour, idling near a copse of trees just outside the estate's perimeter, giving herself the opportunity to get a feel for the guards' number and their rotation. She counted three separate men, but fortunately, they seemed as lazy and uninspired as any guard posted in front of a safe guest house on a sleepy island was likely to be. Not that she couldn't take them – she could take all of them at once with one arm tied behind her back, and blindfolded – but it wouldn't do for her to murder the guards of Markos's guest. And so she waited patiently until the guards, lulled into boredom by inactivity, slouched dully at their assigned posts.

She crept up to the window of the eastern room, her ears pricked for any sudden sounds or other indications that the guards were aware of her presence, but nothing stirred in the wind, and so, with deft hands, she pushed the window inward and hauled herself up and through.

"Kassandr – " Kassandra quickly clamped a hand around Lydia's mouth to stifle her bleat of surprise.

"Hush, you'll alert the guards!" she said. Only after removing her hand from Lydia's mouth did she notice that the woman had discarded her tailored gown and was dressed in a gauzy thin tunic that barely covered her thighs.

"I wasn't sure you'd come," Lydia said hesitantly. "I thought perhaps my _maláka_ father had frightened you away."

Kassandra gave Lydia a lewd grin. "Trust me – your _maláka_ father and the entire Athenian army couldn't frighten me away from you. Come here."

And then her hands were on Lydia, at last, finally free to roam and plunder as she desired. Running her hands roughly down her lover's body, she seized her waist and pulled her into a crushing embrace, claiming Lydia's mouth with her own in a searing kiss.

Kassandra deepened the kiss, sliding her tongue into Lydia's mouth and exploring her slowly, meticulously, savoring her taste. After several moments, Lydia broke the kiss, gasping for breath, green eyes alive and burning with desire.

"I've never done that before," she gasped, and Kassandra frowned slightly.

"What? Kiss? Well, if that was your first kiss, you are a quick study."

Lydia blushed. "Well… it was the first time I've kissed a woman," she said shyly. "There was a man – well, a boy – when I was younger, a stablehand. It was awful. His lips were like cold fish. A few other boys after that. Nothing special." She locked eyes with Kassandra, her expression bold. "Until you, anyway. This feels… so different. So much better. When I look at you, I feel – " Whatever she was going to say disappeared into Kassandra's mouth as the mercenary pulled her into another passionate kiss.

"Don't talk," Kassandra said, voice raw with passion, eyes dark with lust as she locked gazes with Lydia. "Show me."

Lydia needed no more encouragement. With a long, low moan, she met Kassandra's lips with her own once again, their tongues intertwined as Lydia's hands roamed across Kassandra's muscular frame. Kassandra heard a muffled pout of protest as Lydia's hands crashed against the boiled leather of her breastplate.

"I want to feel you," Lydia gasped, her hands finding purchase on Kassandra's bare arms. Kassandra was having no such issues; her hands roved over Lydia's body, feeling her sumptuous curves beneath the thin gauzy shift. Her thumb brushed over a taut nipple, finding purchase through the fabric, and Lydia moaned in response.

"I think we're both wearing too many clothes. And we're too far from the bed." Fortunately, Kassandra had always prided herself on being a problem-solver. Lifting Lydia effortlessly in her strong arms, she carried the younger woman the few steps over to the bed, depositing her, face flushed, atop the sheets. The raw desire in Lydia's gaze sent a torrent of heat through Kassandra's blood straight to her core, and she became painfully aware of exactly how armored she was. With frantic hands, she worked the buckles and catches of her armor until her breastplate and skirts fell away, yanking off her smallclothes as she bent over to remove her boots. When she straightened, she saw Lydia staring at her with a rapt, hungry look.

" _Maláka_ ," Lydia breathed. "You're gorgeous." She leaned forward, and Kassandra's breath caught in her throat as the other woman began to slide her hands along her toned body, across her ribs, and against the sides of her breasts.

"All your scars," she said. "I didn't realize there would be so many."

Kassandra couldn't help but smile at Lydia's naivete. "I am a warrior," she said simply. "Scars are a part of the job, I'm afraid."

"No, they're beautiful," she said, tracing one particularly jagged wound, long since healed, that traversed Kassandra's left ribcage down to the top of her hip. "They show your strength."

Lydia's touch ignited a fire in Kassandra's center, and when her fingers brushed against Kassandra's stiff nipples, something in the mercenary snapped. With a swift, fluid movement, she mounted the bed and pinned Lydia beneath her, her muscles rippling as she held the younger woman in place.

"I will show you my strength," Kassandra growled, leaning over to press a bruising kiss against Lydia's neck.

"Kassandra!" Lydia gasped. Her body writhed tantalizingly against Kassandra's, and the scratch of the fabric against Kassandra's bare skin reminded the mercenary that her lover was overdressed. Sliding her hands roughly down Lydia's body, she grasped for the hem of the shift and jerked it up and over the younger woman's head, tossing it with an impatient huff to the floor.

At last, her lover's body was revealed to her, and Lydia was every bit as beautiful as she'd imagined. Her full breasts were plump but firm, the rosy peaks of her nipples straining against the chill night air as she shifted under the intensity of Kassandra's ravenous gaze. The mercenary's eyes traveled lower, past the smooth plane of Lydia's belly and the soft curves of her hips, until she gazed at the silky thatch of golden hair that lay between her thighs. Kassandra released a slow breath that she hadn't even realized she'd been holding.

"Kassandra?" Lydia's voice tore Kassandra out of her lust-soaked reverie, and the mercenary detected a hint of anxiety in her lover's voice. "Do I… please you?"

An incredulous laugh burst out of Kassandra before she could restrain herself, and so she leaned over Lydia once more, smiling as she brought her lips to the other woman's.

"Does Zeus rule the heavens? Does Poseidon rule the waves? Of course you please me," she said, her lips whispering a trail across her lover's face to her neck, to nip at her ear. "Do you want to know how much?"

Lydia groaned as Kassandra's head dipped down and the mercenary seized a nipple between her lips, eliciting a long, low moan of delight from the younger woman.

"How much?" Lydia's words were punctuated by a cry of pleasure, elicited as Kassandra laved her tongue against the stiff peak.

Kassandra looked up from Lydia's right breast, a crooked smile on her face as she kissed her way across to the left. Lydia cried out as Kassandra repeated her ministrations, and she felt the mercenary take her hand and slowly guide it across the flat, muscular plane of her belly. Kassandra raised her head from Lydia's breast, her eyes burning with lust as she guided the younger woman's hand between her thighs.

"This much," she said, as Lydia's fingers slid against her wet cunt.

Kassandra's eyes fluttered closed in bliss as Lydia's fingers – tentatively, at first, then more boldly – explored her slick folds, a throbbing need building in her core at each stroke of her lover's hand.

"Sweet Aphrodite," Kassandra moaned against Lydia's bare shoulder. The younger woman might have been a virgin, but gods above, she was a quick learner. She knew just what to do with those dainty hands of hers – after her first few, hesitant strokes, she found a rhythm, her fingers sliding in and out of Kassandra's dripping quim. Encouraged by Kassandra's trills of pleasure, Lydia increased her pace, curling her finger and fucking Kassandra with a vigor the mercenary never would have expected from the delicate, well-bred lass.

"Fucking gods above – shit!" Kassandra seized Lydia's shoulders in a vise-like grip, her hips rocking wildly like a ship on unruly seas, fucking Lydia's hand with wild abandon. She felt her release building, a brewing storm within her, gathering with the ferocity of a looming thunderhead. At last the tempest unleashed, and only at the last did Kassandra regain the presence of mind to stifle her exclamation of pleasure, sinking her teeth into Lydia's shoulder to muffle her cries as her climax washed over her in rippling waves. As her orgasm reverberated through her every nerve, she relaxed slowly, unfurling her tense body and releasing her clenching grip on her lover. She was both aroused and ashamed to notice that she'd left a florid bruise on Lydia's shoulder where she'd bitten down.

"Gods, Kassandra, you feel incredible," Lydia sighed, curling around Kassandra and placing a soft kiss against her neck. She lifted her hand to her mouth, and Kassandra felt a renewed pang of arousal shoot through her as Lydia slowly licked each finger clean. "Though I'm going to have to figure out how to explain that bruise to Father."

"Sorry about that," Kassandra purred sheepishly. "It's your own fault, really – I never expected a shy, blushing virgin to be so… skilled."

Lydia laughed, stretching her naked body against Kassandra's, their skin brushing together to create a delicious friction. "I've never lain with another before tonight, but that doesn't mean I haven't pleasured myself," she said coyly.

"You sly little temptress," Kassandra said admiringly. She ached with desire as she looked at Lydia – her honey hair tousled, face flushed, lips swollen, pale skin marked by evidence of Kassandra's ardor. "Turnabout is only fair play, you know. But I have something different in mind for you, my little siren."

"Oh? And what might that be?" Lydia's lips parted ever so slightly with anticipation, and Kassandra could not resist placing a slow, lingering kiss against her pouted mouth. She slid her body languorously down Lydia's, placing a trail of languid, wet kisses against her lover's neck, her breast, her stomach, her hip, and, finally, her inner thigh. Kassandra's breath caught in her throat as she parted Lydia's legs with her hands and beheld her glistening quim, already dripping with arousal.

"I'm going to taste your cunt," she said, and she drew her tongue along Lydia's swollen, wet slit. Lydia's cries were music to her ears, and the taste of her lover's juices sent a hot pang of arousal straight to her own center. Driven by a nameless hunger, Kassandra buried her face between Lydia's legs, inhaling deeply of her lover's scent as she laved her tongue eagerly against the slick, hot core. Lydia's cries echoed around her, though she scarcely noticed – Kassandra could sense nothing beyond the sight, the smell, the taste of her lover's quim, dripping with honeyed nectar. Her tongue probed at the entrance of Lydia's depths, and when Kassandra slid her finger into Lydia's cunt, the passage was slick and ready, and she met no resistance. Daring to slip in another finger, Kassandra fucked her with a steady, pulsing rhythm while her lips sought after and found their prize – her lover's swollen clit, throbbing and awaiting her ministrations. Kassandra took Lydia's clit into her mouth, sucking hard against the hooded nub, and she inserted a third finger into Lydia's cunt, her hand pumping with reckless abandon, her fingers curling into her lover's inner wall.

The reaction was instant. Lydia's thighs clenched together, crushing Kassandra's head in a vise grip as she screamed in pleasure, her hips bucking wildly into Kassandra's face as she came hard and fast. Kassandra gripped her hips tight, holding her face secure against Lydia's cunt as she lapped up the torrent of her come, her heart thrilling in triumph as Lydia's thighs trembled with the force of her climax. At last, Lydia collapsed into a boneless heap, and Kassandra placed one final kiss against her lover's swollen, sensitive quim before unfurling her body and moving upwards along the bed. Kassandra felt their nude bodies sliding against each other as she moved, their nipples brushing together and sending a jolt of fire through her blood.

"That was… gods!" Lydia was breathless, and Kassandra could not resist a smug grin at how thoroughly undone her lover was. Lydia flung her arms around Kassandra's neck and gave her a resounding, passionate kiss, one that deepened into a slow, exploratory caress as the two women found they did not want to part again so quickly.

"Thank you, Kassandra," Lydia said after they'd managed to tear away from each other at last. "And not just for showing me such pleasure. Before I met you – "

Whatever Lydia was about to say was swallowed by the crashing of the bedroom door, kicked in abruptly to bang against the wall. A guard – one of the idiot dullards Kassandra had seen nearly dozing at his post – stood glowering at the naked women, his eyes slowly growing wide as he realized exactly what manner of scene he beheld. Behind him, face purpling with florid rage, stood Eremos.

Lydia screamed, instinctively curling into a ball and covering herself as best as she could with her arms. Kassandra's first instinct was not modesty – she quickly located her spear on the floor, where she'd placed it rather more gently than her discarded armor, which was scattered at the foot of the bed. She could reach it from the bed, and, in one motion, gather the spear, thrust it through the guard's neck, and have it at Eremos's throat before the bastard would have time to react –

"What are you doing?" Lydia had regained her voice, and, to her credit, sounded more indignant than frightened as she glared hatefully at her father and the guard.

"I heard screaming, and came to see if you was in trouble – " The guard began, but was abruptly silenced by a vicious hand movement from Eremos.

"I knew I didn't trust you, deviant bitch," he growled, glaring daggers at Kassandra. "You think I didn't notice the way you leered at my daughter at dinner, you whore? Do you know what you've done? She is promised to a man in Korinth, a man worth a hundred times your weight in drachmae! How am I going to explain to him that I'm delivering to him damaged goods, a slut of a daughter who fucks other women? You've ruined me."

Kassandra had heard enough. Rolling out of the bed, she grabbed the spear. The guard saw her, and made a clumsy move towards her, but she lashed out with her foot and caught him flush against the jaw, and he dropped like a leaden weight.

"One more vile word from you and I'll cut your tongue from your mouth, pig," she snarled. Hands seized her around the waist, and she nearly raised her arm and lashed out with her spear before she remembered that it was only Lydia behind her.

"Go, Kassandra! I'll deal with him."

Kassandra blinked in confusion. "What? You heard him – I'll not let him speak to you that way!"

Lydia shook her head resolutely. "Kassandra, trust me, please – I don't want you doing something you can't take back. I can deal with this. Just, go, now!"

"Lydia – "

"Go!"

She heard shouting and pounded footsteps, and realized the other guards were converging, and so, reluctantly, she obeyed, leaping out the window she'd come in and sprinting through the grass, heedless of the bellowed cries behind her. One of the fools even shot at her with a bow, though the night and his own lack of skill ensured that the arrow flew harmlessly overhead. She ran, taking old goat trails and other hidden routes that only a Kephallonian local could know, until she was certain, standing alone and naked in a clearing several miles from Markos's estate, that she'd finally shaken them off her trail. She looked down at herself, naked and clutching her spear, and the realization that she'd just made life immeasurably harder for Lydia – and ruined Markos's scheme to boot – came crashing down on her like a pallet of stone.

" _Maláka_ ," she swore.

* * *

She managed to make her way home to her little hovel some hours later. She'd sneaked through the yard of a small household, snagging a drying sheet from a laundry line and wrapping it around herself like a makeshift robe. She swore again – she hoped Eremos's men wouldn't steal her armor, and that it would be in Markos's guest house when it was finally safe for her to return there. It was not especially fine armor, but it was her finest, and another set would cost her the entirety of her payment from Gelos –

Wait. Instinctively, she threw her hands to her sides, but, of course, she found only the sheet. _Maláka_! Her purse had been on her belt – which was now discarded on the floor of Lydia's bedroom. So not only did she have to hope Eremos wouldn't steal her armor, she had to hope he wouldn't notice her drachmae, either. If he did, she'd have nothing; at least, until she could scrounge up more work. With no armor.

Finally arriving at her hovel, she clambered up the ladder and collapsed onto her cot, unwrapping the sheet and allowing the chill of the night breeze to cool her naked skin. With a groan, she threw an arm over her face as the extent of her ill fortune sunk in.

"Fuck me," she groaned.

But even as she lay there, pitying herself, her thoughts continually drifted back to Lydia. As shitty as Kassandra's life was – she was constantly poor, frequently hungry, scraping together what little drachmae she could earn to buy the necessities, eking out a meager living from job to job – the other woman, though wealthy, had it so much worse. At least Kassandra had no man as her master, telling her what she could and could not say, do, or wear; who she could or could not befriend, love, or fuck. What would happen to Lydia now?

Troubled by her thoughts and by her terrible turn of luck, she drifted off to an anxious and uneasy sleep.

* * *

The sun was bright in the sky when Kassandra finally cracked her eyes open, but it was not Helios which had awakened her. She was dimly aware of a rhythmic slapping, a dull, repetitive noise that intruded through her dream-addled thoughts and pulled her from the grasp of Hypnos.

With a groan, she lifted her head, blinking her eyes lazily and chasing away the last of sleep's dull cobwebs.

"Oh! You're awake! Hey Kassandra!"

Phoibe's chipper voice managed to restore some of Kassandra's good humor. It was impossible not to feel cheered around the irrepressible little girl. Phoibe had had a hard life, and most would look at her and see an impoverished orphan, an urchin who would grow up to be either a cutpurse or a whore. But when Kassandra looked at her, she saw a resourceful little scamp who never let the cruelties of the world grind her down, who always found a silver lining no matter how dark and forbidding the cloud; she also saw a bit of herself, the determined child who refused to allow the Fates to spin for her an ending other than one of her own choosing.

"Good morning, Phoibe," she said, gathering the sheet around herself. It wasn't as if she needed to be modest around Phoibe – the girl knew what women's bodies looked like, after all – but it felt uncomfortable to have a conversation with a twelve-year-old in the buff.

"Ha, is that what you wore last night after you ran out of that lady's room? I bet it was hilarious to see you running naked through the countryside!" Phoibe collapsed into a fit of giggles, and Kassandra gawped at her in confusion.

"How did you…"

"Oh, here, I have your armor. And your drachmae. That gross man was too angry to bother keeping it – he stormed out of the estate this morning He was soooooo mad!" Phoibe tossed Kassandra a hefty sack, and Kassandra's brain belatedly realized that the rhythmic slapping sound she'd awoken to had been Phoibe bouncing the bag against the wall of her hovel.

"What? How did…"

Once again Phoibe cut her short. "Oh, I stopped by Markos's place this morning. I wanted to see if he had any more extra grapes that he didn't crush for the wine barrels! They're soooo good." She closed her eyes in dreamy bliss.

"Phoibe…"

"Oh yeah! Anyway. I stopped by Markos's estate and I heard lots of yelling. This angry man was screaming about how Markos's _misthios_ ruined his daughter, and Markos was trying so hard to apologize, but this guy didn't even care at all, he just kept screaming! It was pretty funny."

"Phoibe."

"Well, it was! His face got super purple! Anyway, this woman was with him, I guess that was the daughter you ruined? Except she looked fine to me! She looked angry, but at Mr. Purple Face, not at you! So I don't know what he was talking about. He seemed dumb. But poor Markos! He was SUPER upset. He almost cried, Kassandra! Can you imagine it? Markos, crying?"

Kassandra felt terrible. Yes, Markos was a cheat and a con artist. Yes, he deserved to have all of his ill-conceived schemes blow up in his face. But for his plans to be derailed not by his own incompetence, but by her actions…

"Anyway, after the gross man left, Markos told me to find you. I went into the guest house and found all your stuff. Why were you naked?" Phoibe squinted her eyes. She was twelve – not exactly a purely innocent summer child, but young enough to lapse into occasional bouts of naivete.

Kassandra decided there was no harm in being as honest as she felt like – after all, it certainly sounded as though the damage was done, if Eremos had already broken off his deal with Markos.

"I was spending time with Lydia. We were, er, spending time with each other."

Phoibe's eyes were blank for the span of a couple of blinks, before glinting in recognition. "Oh! Do you mean… " She dropped her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. " _Sex_?"

Kassandra rolled her eyes, but could not help but laugh. "Yes, Phoibe. I mean sex."

"Oh." Phoibe considered this. "Well, she was pretty."

Kassandra smiled ruefully, again beset by troubled thoughts of Lydia. Would her father still ship her off like a chattel to be wed to a man she had no interest in? Would he punish her for the transgression of making love with Kassandra? She felt anger bubbling in her once again. She should have slain him last night. She had only spared him out of consideration for Markos and Lydia, but now, the deal with Markos was off, and who knew what terrible fate awaited Lydia?

"Yes," Kassandra agreed. "Yes, she is very pretty."

"Oh! I heard the fat man say he had a ship leaving Kephallonia at noon," Phoibe exclaimed, her eyes lighting up as she remembered the relevant detail. "Maybe you could say goodbye to her? Before they left?"

The thought seized Kassandra at once. Would it do any good? Perhaps she had already done enough damage to Lydia for one lifetime, and should leave well enough alone. But if Lydia was truly in danger from her father… could she ever forgive herself if she let her sail back to Athens in the clutches of such a tyrant?

"Phoibe, as always, you are a treasure," Kassandra said, and the little girl beamed. "I think I might do just that. Now… let's have that armor."

* * *

Kassandra threaded her way through the dockside stalls in Sami, her eyes open and alert for any sign of Eremos or Lydia. It was nearly noon, and Kassandra panicked – perhaps they'd left early, and she'd missed them.

She had almost given up hope and was nearly prepared to leave Sami and return, dejected, to beg Markos's forgiveness when a flash of golden hair caught her eye. Peering out from behind a fishmonger's stall, Kassandra's heart raced as she beheld Lydia, standing aloof, arms crossed, as servants hauled crates onto a docked merchant vessel. A further perusal of the ship revealed Eremos standing on the deck, barking furious orders at his servants. This was her chance!

"Lydia!" she whispered frantically, hoping she was close enough that her voice would carry to the other woman.

Lydia frowned, casting her gaze around in confusion, before she spied Kassandra gesturing at her from behind the stall. Kassandra's heart leapt – Lydia did not scowl or otherwise seem displeased to see her. She made her way quickly to the narrow alley between the stalls.

"Lydia," Kassandra breathed with relief. "I was so worri – "

Kassandra's words disappeared into a Lydia's mouth as Lydia pressed her lips to the mercenary's, seizing her in a passionate kiss, a kiss Kassandra eagerly returned. When at last they came up for air, Kassandra could only grin crookedly at her lover.

"You know, I wasn't sure you'd ever want to see me again after what happened last night," she said. "I'm so sorry – "

"Hush." Lydia stilled Kassandra with a hand to her shoulder. "No apologies. Last night was the most wonderful night of my life. Without it, I never would have had the perspective or courage to do what I did. And I have you to thank for that, Kassandra. So, please: no apologies."

Kassandra's brows furrowed in confusion. "What do you mean? To do what?"

Lydia beamed at her. "To defy my father, of course! I told him in no uncertain terms I will not be marrying that old fart in Korinth, and that he could not force me."

Kassandra stared at her, uncomprehending. In one respect, being disowned by her father was the best thing that had ever happened to her – it meant no man could rule the course of her life. But that was not the case for most women in Greece, who remained the property of their fathers or husbands, or any surviving male relative in the absence of either. It enraged her to her core – but how could Lydia have possibly found a way to circumvent her father's authority, that any other man in Greece would recognize, justly or not?

"But how?" Kassandra asked. "He is a disgusting pig, but he is still your father. How can you break free of him?"

Lydia laughed, and Kassandra saw a mischievous gleam in the other woman's eyes.

"By swearing myself into the service of Artemis! I told Father that your bravery in battle was a sign from Artemis that I should abandon my life of comfort to serve the goddess's will. He was furious, and did not want to believe me, but I told him he would risk the wrath of the gods if he did not allow me to leave at once to begin my training!"

Kassandra gaped at her incredulously. "You just… swore an oath to Artemis? Just like that?"

"Of course," Lydia said. "Why shouldn't I? She is a goddess who favors the bold. I have always known something was missing from my life… that I was not meant to live the life my father had set out for me. Meeting you, seeing how strong and brave and fierce you are, opened my eyes. I will become a warrior disciple of the goddess, or die trying. And if I die… better a valorous death in service to the gods than life as a slave, bearing the children of an old goat who sees me only as the broodmother to his heirs."

Kassandra wanted to argue with this sudden turn of events – did Lydia know exactly how fierce the Daughters of Artemis were? Was she was prepared to live as a wild huntress without any of the comforts or trappings of civilization, far from the posh confines of Athens? And yet… how could Kassandra argue? The Daughters of Artemis lived hard lives, but they were free. She, herself, was free. She could not begrudge another woman the chance to seize that same freedom.

Kassandra smiled, and gathered Lydia into a close embrace. "Then I am glad you have found your freedom," she said, inhaling deeply of Lydia's scent as she held the younger woman.

Lydia took Kassandra's hands in hers, and leaned in to peck her on the lips. "Perhaps our paths will meet again," she said. "I hope they do." She turned her head, hearing the urgent bellows of the servants on the ship deck.

"I hope so too," Kassandra said, running her thumbs across Lydia's hands. "But you should go. I don't want you to miss your ship out of here. You don't want to end up stuck on Kephallonia, believe me."

Lydia fixed her with an oddly poignant gaze. "You won't remain here much longer, I think," she said. "You have a destiny far bigger than anything this island can offer. There is a greatness in you. I can feel it."

Kassandra was oddly touched by the sincere, if cryptic, compliment. "A vision from the goddess?" she said wryly.

"Perhaps," Lydia replied. "Or perhaps I can just tell that Kephallonia is too small to contain you." The servants bellowed again, and Lydia released Kassandra's hands reluctantly. "Thank you again, Kassandra. For everything." She placed a soft kiss on Kassandra's cheek, much as she had the night before; and then she was gone, slipping back to the docks and making her way onto the deck of the ship that bore her back to Attika.

" _Chaire_ , my friend," Kassandra said quietly, as the ship unmoored from the dock and maneuvered out of the harbor, away from Sami, and away from Kephallonia.

* * *

Kassandra knew she needed to go smooth things over with Markos; but she also knew that she wasn't in the mood for his dramatic wailing, and so she compromised by getting drunk in Sami. She was on her third serving of wine, slumped over her cup at the taverna, when Phoibe came skipping up to her.

"Phoibe, you shouldn't be here," Kassandra groused, halfheartedly shooing the girl away. "This isn't a nice place for children."

"Kephallonia isn't a nice place for children," Phoibe retorted, and Kassandra couldn't argue with that logic, so she could only manage a shrug as Phoibe sat down across from her.

"You know, you really ought to go talk to Markos," Phoibe said.

"Ugh! Why do you think I'm here getting drunk? So I can _not_ talk to Markos, for as long as possible."

"He's not mad," Phoibe said. "Markos never gets mad. He just moves on to the next crazy plan, you know? I think he's already got one in mind. He was jabbering about it all day. Something about a Cyclops. It's like Mr. Purple Face was never even here!"

Kassandra shook her head and managed a wry smile. Yes, that did sound like Markos, all right. The man was impervious to any possible lessons to be gleaned from failure. At least that meant he wouldn't be furious at her for ruining his scheme to con Eremos out of his money.

"Well, whatever plot Markos has cooked up this time, I'm sure it will be just as terrible as all the others," Kassandra said, and Phoibe giggled.

"You know, Kassandra…" Phoibe began, but then trailed off in an uncharacteristic bout of shyness. Kassandra looked up from her cup and fixed the little girl with a kind expression.

"What's that, Phoibe?"

"I heard what the pretty lady said to you. The lady you had S-E-X with."

"Phoibe!" Kassandra's jaw dropped. "You were eavesdropping?"

"Not eavesdropping!" Phoibe protested. "I just happened to be standing close to you and could overhear your conversation."

Kassandra glowered. "That's the same thing as eavesdropping, Phoibe."

"Well, anyway," Phoibe continued stubbornly. "I heard her telling you that you'll leave Kephallonia. That you're meant for greater things."

Kassandra shrugged. "No one can know the future, Phoibe. Only the Fates know what is in store for us."

"But what if it's true?" Kassandra set her cup down, something in Phoibe's tone pulling her attention away from her wine. She saw Phoibe worrying at her lip with her teeth, a nervous habit she rarely indulged in. "What if you leave?"

"Well… I suppose if I leave, it will be to take a job," she said. "It's not like drachmae grows on trees around here."

"But what about me?" Phoibe's true worry burst forth. "What will I do if you go?"

"Oh, Phoibe," Kassandra sighed, her heart aching for the little girl whose closest family was a jaded, battle-hardened _misthios_. "Phoibe, you will be fine. You're strong, a survivor. Besides, even if I go, I won't be gone forever."

"But what if you are? What if you go and never come back? What if I never see you again?" The girl had been taken hostage by her worries, and they spilled out of her like water from a sieve. "What if you forget about me?"

"Phoibe." Kassandra straightened her back into her best _misthios_ pose, and fixed the girl with a stern gaze. "Phoibe, listen to me. I will _never_ forget about you. No matter what. No matter where I go, or where the Fates take me."

Phoibe sniffled hard, doing her best to stifle the incipient tears that threatened to well up in her eyes. "Promise?" she said, her voice sounding far younger to Kassandra than it had in years.

Kassandra smiled warmly at the little girl. "I promise." She stood up, taking Phoibe's hand in hers. "And you know what? I think I've had enough wine for today. Why don't you take me back to Markos? Let's hear about this crazy new plan involving a Cyclops, shall we?"

She pushed herself away from the table, and let Phoibe lead her through the streets of Sami, and inside her heart, she felt at once as if nothing had changed – and yet, also, that everything had, somehow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you who follow my other works: fear not, nothing is abandoned. 2018 was a rough year, and I had to take a hiatus for a while. But *cues Steven Tyler* I'm baaaaaaaaack in the saddle again, and while I'm not prepared to promise a specific timeline, I can reassure you that I'm still working on From the Ashes and my other WIPs. For those of you who came here for Assassin's Creed, while this fic is intended as a standalone one-shot, I will never say never to revisiting more stories about Kassandra in the future. Who can resist those arms?? *swoon*
> 
> Thank you so much for reading, and any comments and kudos are greatly appreciated! :)


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